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"Hello." I sang as I answered, hoping to hear Marshall on the other end of the line.

"Miss Winters? I hope this is a good time to call. It's David Anderson. We met a few weeks back. You put on a presentation for me about the redesign of my brownstone out in Black Bay."

I put the fabric sample I was holding down and sat up straight. Mr. Andersen, the client I'd blown the meeting with and been mentally kicking myself over ever since, all because of a spilled coffee and a ruined silk blouse.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Andersen. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you. Listen, I've been thinking about the redesign and some things you proposed. I'd like you to come back in and show me some other options. That first presentation was good; it had some solid concepts and interesting material choices that I liked. I knew you were having an off day, but I'd like to give you another shot."

I frowned. An off day. That was generous. I'd been scattered, distracted, half-present, and he had noticed. I knew he had, and the fact that he was going to give me a second chance was unexpected. Clients like him don't give second chances. I'd learned that with the first design company I'd worked for when I lost a deal. They had too many options and little patience.

"I'd love that." I said, keeping my voice calm. "When works for you?"

"How does Thursday sound?"

"Thursday works. Thank you."

"I will send you an email in regards to the things I liked, and to the things I'd like to see changed so you can incorporate that into your presentation."

"Sounds good."

We ended the call, and I put the appointment in my calendar. I'd closed my calendar when I noticed a text from Marshall; he must have messaged when I was on the phone. He was in the change room about to head to practice, told me he loved me, was thinking of me and would message after the game. I messaged him back and dove into work.

I spent most of the night watching hockey while preparing for Mr. Andersen as if my career depended on it. Getting a second chance was a gift, especially with a client in a Black Bay brownstone. It was a home I knew would get photographed for magazines. Landing this project would pay well and announce me to that community, opening doors I couldn't reach on my own.

After reading over his email, I'd scrapped my original mood board and started from scratch. I sourced the reclaimed wood he'd mentioned, pulled new material selections and assembled them into a palette that balanced warmth and sophistication. I then created a refined budget breakdown with three tiers, each one clearly labeled so he could choose whichever one he wanted without feeling pressured.

I picked out my outfit for tomorrow, rehearsing my presentation in the mirror. Then on video. I even practiced one more time in front of Cooper, who sat on my bed and stared at me as if he understood every word I'd said.

Thursday I drove to Black Bay. I went over the presentation with Mr. Andersen and now he stood beside me in the kitchen, looking over things and nodding.

"I love this second design."

"Wonderful. I'm glad."

"I think we will go with the middle-tier budget. That is a pleasant touch, by the way."

It was hard for me to contain myself as we sat down at the table and I produced my contract. He read everything over and then pulled out his pen and signed it.

"Lillah, this is exactly what I was hoping for. I knew you had it in you."

"Well, I thank you for giving me another chance." I said, taking the contract and sliding it into my folder.

"Well, you came highly recommended."

I paused, my hand resting on the folder I'd slid the contract into. "Recommended by whom?"

"Marshall Hayes. The new center on the Enforcers."

I watched as Mr. Andersen pulled out his phone and showed me a text message. It was from Marshall's number, and all it said was I hear you're looking for an interior designer? Check out Winter's Designs. She is the best in Boston.

The air left my lungs.

"I'm a huge hockey fan and a good friend of Coach Briggs. I am a season's ticket holder, actually. When Marshall messaged me and I saw his recommendation, I figured I'd give you another look. I'm glad I did. I saw you had updated your portfolio on your website, and to be honest, your work speaks for itself."

I didn't know how to feel about this, so I kept my expression neutral. I got up from where I was sitting and told him I'd have the first phase completed in two weeks. He walked me to the door saying something about being excited for the transformation. I didn't catch what he'd said, so I muttered something back to him I hoped sounded right, shook his hand, and made my way to my car.

I sat in my car for ten minutes, staring at the brick wall in front of me, my hands on the steering wheel, the engine off. Breathing.